


The Reason That I Laugh and Breathe

by Sorceressofdragons



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Injured Will, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorceressofdragons/pseuds/Sorceressofdragons
Summary: During the battle in Ealdor against Kanen and his men, the bolt that was meant to kill Will instead pierces his neck. He is left in Hunith's care. She must help him regain his strength and learn to speak again. During the weeks and months that follow, they each begin to see the other in new ways. They both have a great capacity to love and be loved, but first Hunith must accept that she is worthy of that love.
Relationships: Hunith/Will (Merlin)
Kudos: 4





	The Reason That I Laugh and Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Title from E.E. Cummins "You Being in Love..."

Hunith watched the 4 horses and their riders as long as she could. She saw the slouch of her son's shoulders and knew he was hurting. He turned once more to wave before he followed the prince around the bend in the path and into the forest.

"I promise I'll do my best," she had told him, and she would.

*

The room was dark, lit only by the meagre fire in the hearth. She had to be careful with her candle supply. Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana were used to luxury and she hadn't had the heart to tell them she couldn't afford to light every candle, every night.

She didn't need much light now, though. She could easily see the damp sweat on Will's brow, feel the unnatural heat from his injury. She stood and turned away from the cot to gather the supplies she would need for a poultice. She moved in quick, economical steps. She always had when something needed to be done.

She ground and mixed the herbs, then cleaned the space and stepped around the curtain that hid the cot from the rest of the cottage. It wasn't until she was sitting on the edge of the bed and was slathering on the pungent yellow medicine that she realized Will was awake and watching her.

She stilled her hand and looked at him. She couldn't make out any emotion on his face. He simply watched her. She felt herself smile the way she would when Merlin got hurt when he was a child.

_Everything will be ok,_ the look said. She had no idea if it was true.

She felt his eyes on her while she continued to work. She wiped the poultice from her hands and dried the sweat from his brow. By the time she was finished, his eyes had closed again. She lay down on the pallet in the corner and slept.

*

Hunith opened the door to the cottage. The smell of cooking stew overwhelmed her senses and reminded her how long she’d been gone. She hurried her steps. Not stopping to take off her cape, she rushed into the bedroom. Pressing two fingers to the uninjured side of Will’s neck, she sighed in relief at the pulse she found there.

Back at the hearth, she quickly broke up the bundle of herbs in her hand and threw a handful into the stew. She hung her cape next to the door and gently pulled the pot of honey out of her bag. She had traded more root vegetables than she should have to get it, but Will needed it. His injury wasn’t healing like she wanted it to, and he was too hot.

Leaving the stew to simmer, she took the honey into the bedroom.

“Will!”

Hunith rushed to the cot and clutched at Will’s arms. He had woken and was pulling at his bandages. His fingers scrabbled at his neck and poultice was dropping to the bed in chunks.

“Will, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

The admonition seemed to spur him on, the panic growing. Hunith tried to push him back down to the bed, but even gravely injured, Will was stronger than her.

She let go of his arms and gripped both sides of his face.

“Will. Look at me. Will.” Her voice had taken on a low, commanding tone. Will pulled once more at his bandage, but the uncontrolled fear slid out of his body and he slumped against the wall next to the bed. He stared at Hunith.

“Wha…” he whispered, breathy and rough. Coughs wracked his body. Hunith settled on the cot next to him and rubbed circles into his back.

“What happened?” she asked quietly. “Is that what you want to know?”

“Ye…” Another bout of coughing. Sweat had bloomed anew on his face by the time he calmed.

Hunith forced him to lay back. She began to clean the poultice, now spread halfway across his chest.

“Do you remember fighting Kanen and his men?” she asked softly. At his nod, she continued. “You saved Prince Arthur, pushed him out of the way of a crossbow. You took the bolt.”

Will tried to rise up again, frantically looking down his body. His hands fluttered around, trying to find the injury but unable to. She took his hand in hers and watched his eyes.

“It pierced your neck. We got you inside quickly and Merlin was able to use his magic on you, but he couldn’t heal you completely. He did everything he could.” She took a cloth from beside the bed and wiped his brow. He was still too hot. “He had to return to Camelot, so he left you in my care.”

Will nodded slightly. A tear escaped one eye and made a path down his face. She looked away. Will was proud. He wouldn’t want her to see him cry.

A hissing sound from the other side of the curtain had Hunith up and out of the room. The stew was boiling over and landing on the wood of the hearth. She took the pot from the fire and set it aside. She dipped a bowl into it to catch the broth and was looking for a spoon when she heard banging from the bedroom.

She found Will trying to sit again, his face strained and red. He was angry. She’d seen that emotion on him often enough to know.

“What is it, Will?” she asked gently.

He looked up at her, damp hair plastered to his face, eyes glassy. He opened his mouth as though to talk, but closed it again. His hands were fisted in the blanket. 

_Why?_ He mouthed. One hand lifted to his mouth and rested on his bottom lip.

“Why? Why what?”

“Talk,” he whispered. The coughing that followed was long and rough. Hunith brought him water.

“Why can’t you talk?”

Will nodded.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if your voice will come back either, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Will slid back down onto the pillow and turned his head towards the wall.

“Try not to use your voice, we’ll see how it goes. Ok?”

Will made no move to indicate he’d heard her. Hunith went back to the hearth for the broth. When she returned to the cot, Will hadn’t moved.

“Will, you need to eat.”

He made no move to roll over.

“Will.”

He closed his eyes. She left him alone.

*

Will’s panic set his healing back several days. The fever worsened, and he slept 3 whole days. Twice a day, Hunith spread the honey onto the wound; a raggedy, round tear in his neck, right under his jaw, and too close to his spine to make her feel comfortable. She wondered how bad the damage had been. How much Merlin had done to keep his friend alive. She knew it had nearly killed Merlin when he’d had to leave with his party, but the prince and Lady were needed in Camelot. Merlin trusted his mother to care for Will, though, so he’d said his goodbyes and she’d promised she’d do everything she could.

On the evening of the third day, she had just settled on her pallet in the corner when she looked to the bed and saw Will’s eyes were open and watching her again.

“Will?” she whispered. He nodded. She wasn’t sure what he was nodding about, other than to say _Yes, I’m here_. She rose and came to him, sitting gently on the edge of the cot. “Are you hungry?” He nodded again.

She brought a bowl of broth to the bedroom and lifted him until he was able to rest against the wall. He seemed more tired than the last time he’d been awake. He leaned on her heavily. She had to rest the bowl on her lap and use one hand to feed him. Each sip ended in a coughing fit, but eventually they found a rhythm and soon he had finished the whole bowl. She set it aside and let him lower his head back to the thin mattress. She combed the hair off his temples. He looked at her with one eye open, sleep almost claiming him.

_Thank you,_ he mouthed.

*

Hunith sat in a chair by the hearth. She was exhausted. She hadn’t been able to tend to her small garden in two weeks. If the neighbors hadn’t chipped in to help, she would be in danger for the upcoming winter. She needed to preserve some of the vegetables on the table before they turned, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand up.

At least Will was getting better. Every day he had more energy. She would do what she needed to help him. And hopefully be able to rely on the kindness of her neighbors a little longer.

Shuffling from the bedroom had Hunith turning her head in that direction.

“Do you need help?” she called.

A pause, and then 2 knocks on the wall. They had begun to work out a rudimentary way of talking, involving knocks and basic hand signals. 1 knock for yes, 2 knocks for no.

Hunith smiled. They didn’t really need much in the way of alternate ways of communicating. Will had always been quick to anger and quick to smile, and the injury hadn’t changed that. So far, Hunith had seen more anger than smiles, but she had hope that it would change eventually. In the meantime, his emotions played out across his features almost as clearly as his words had.

The shuffling continued until the curtain was pushed aside, and Hunith looked up to see Will standing in the doorway, cheeks pink and breath heavy.

For a long moment, she couldn’t move. The hearth fire flickered shadows across his bare chest. His body suddenly looked to her like that of a man’s. The young friend of her son had become something else, something more, and she was struck with surprise. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked away, ashamed. She was too old. What Will had wasn’t for her. 

A knock on the wall had her looking up again. He looked at her, confused. She pushed herself out of the chair and hurried to his side, eyes downcast.

“You should have called me. I would have helped,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around his back and helping him over to the fire. She lowered him into the chair she had been sitting in and brought a thick fur to tuck in at his lap. Despite the exhaustion that plagued her body, she turned her back on the fire and stood at the counter.

A knock had her turning towards Will.

He had stood and picked a book up from where it sat on the mantle. His brow furrowed as he tried to tell her what he wanted. He held the book out to her and waved at the chair.

“Do you want me to read to you?” she asked.

He nodded, peace crossing his face and smoothing out the lines of his frustration. He shuffled to the bench next to the table.

“Will, sit in the chair by the fire. You need the heat.”

He angrily shook his head. He lifted a finger, pointed it at her, and then pointed to the chair. He lowered his body to the bench and huffed out a loud breath.

She sighed. Will had always been headstrong. Arguing with him over this small thing wasn’t worth the energy. They’d fight and she would end up in the chair anyway.

She picked up the fur from where it had dropped when Will stood and tucked it back around him. She settled herself by the fire and opened the book.

*

“I’m going to sleep by the fire,” Hunith said quietly, hoping her words would go unnoticed.

Will knocked on the wall until she lifted her head from where she gathered the blanket and pillow from the pallet.

_Why?_ He mouthed. His head had lifted from the pillow and his mouth pursed in anger.

“You’re not in danger of dying anymore, Will.” She went back to gathering the bedding.

He swung his legs out of the bed and stood. She looked up in alarm and saw him sway before he reached out to hold the wall. When he was steady, he stomped over to her and yanked the pillow and blanket from her arms.

“Will!” she cried. “Stop it!”

He made no sign that he heard her. He scooped up his own bedding, dropped hers on the cot, and slowly stumbled out to the dying fire.

“Will,” she said, coming out to stand over where he was struggling with the furs and blankets in front of the hearth. “Get back in that bed. You are still recovering.”

He ignored her, other than a single irate look he threw at her before turning his back and lying down.

“Will!” she yelled. “Get your backside into that bed before I go outside for a switch!”

_No!_ he mouthed.

“You are in my house and you will do what I say, young man. Get. In. The. Bed.”

Will sat up and turned to her, face red and mouth pinched. He pointed at her, then the bedroom.

She felt herself deflate. This was another argument she would never win. She sat on the bench at the table and let out a long sigh.

“Will, you need to stop fighting me. I’m not your enemy.”

The anger bled from his face and was quickly replaced with a look so contrite, she couldn’t stop the smile that lifted her lips.

“Get back in the bed, Will,” she tried again. He shook his head, but it was accompanied by a pleading look. He didn’t want to put her out anymore, she knew.

“If I sleep on the pallet, will you get back in the bed?” She didn’t know if it would make a difference, but tried anyway. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he was having trouble forgetting the battle. She reached over and rested a hand on his arm. “Please?”

He considered for a moment, then nodded. Hunith helped him up and got him settled. He was asleep before she was back in her pallet.

*

Hunith looked up from her mending to watch Will pull his boots on.

“Going out for some fresh air?” she asked.

He shrugged. His breathing was laboured already, just from the effort of getting dressed. She rolled her eyes and went back to watching the needle and thread. If Will wanted to over-tire himself, at least he’d sleep well tonight.

“Don’t go far. And come back in before you do yourself harm.”

He stood to his full height and rolled his own eyes dramatically back at her.

_Yes ma’am!_ he mouthed, followed by a low bow. She couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto her face.

Twenty minutes later, Hunith put on her own boots to go check on her charge. She found him at the back of the cottage, sitting on the old bench and looking over her gardens.

“Will?”

He turned and looked at her, a slow smile working its way across his features.

“Hunith,” he whispered.

“It’s getting chilly. Want to come inside?”

“No.”

“Alright. What do you want to do?”

His smile grew and a twinkle in his eye told her to be wary, but she loved seeing this playful side of Will. It had been missing the last few weeks. She smiled back.

He nudged her shoulder to get her attention when she turned away. He used two fingers to make a running and jumping motion, then pointed to a large mud puddle on the other side of the garden.

She let out a quick laugh. “You want to run and jump in mud?”

He nodded vigorously.

“William, if you roll around in mud, I will have your hide! Who do you think washes these clothes?” And he was still recovering, but she didn’t think he needed reminding of that. No, he needed forgetting. So she laughed at him, but turned away to surreptitiously look for a handful of mud.

She casually stood and walked to the edge of the garden. Stooping, she pretended to pull a weed from the ground. With the other hand, she scooped up the largest, wettest handful of mud she could find. Will had closed his eyes. His face had a look of general happiness on it. She sauntered back to him, hand behind her back.

“Will?” she said nonchalantly. He opened one eye and grinned.

_Yeah?_

Hunith brought the handful of mud up to his face and smeared it from forehead to chin. When she was done, his mouth opened in a comical “o” and his eyes were bright. She giggled and backed away. He reached out quickly though, and she knew she should have been faster. He pulled her into his lap and held her there, scooping mud from his own face and squishing it onto hers.

By the time he was done, they were both laughing. His laugh was quiet, but he was grinning from ear to ear and looked happier than he had in ages. Since long before the injury, actually. The sight filled her with warmth.

That night they ate dinner while covered in furs and sat as close to the hearth as they could. They sat up and read late into the night.

*

“It’s nice out, would you like to walk with me down to the well?” Hunith asked, throwing her cape around her shoulders.

Will looked up from his place at the table where he was pouring over a book Merlin had sent him from Camelot. He nodded his head.

“Good,” she said, helping him into his own cape. “Winter’s almost here. We should enjoy the sun while we can.”

She smoothed the fabric over his shoulders and brought the ties together. Her fingers fumbled. Warmth from his body seeped through the fabric of the cloak into her hands. She wanted to press herself there.

She turned her head away. Their forced confinement was taking its toll on her. Everywhere she turned, she saw hints of the man he had grown into. Not for the first time, she wondered why he had never taken a wife. He’d been old enough to marry for several years. He made a good living with his woodworking, and he helped his neighbors whenever he could. He should have found love long ago.

She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and tried to tie the strings of the cape again. She came up with a knot. She undid it and tried again.

She knew he occasionally fooled around with a few of the local girls, but that was life in the country. He had never actually courted anyone. That she knew of, anyway.

Her fingers shook. The knot was stuck, made worse by her trembling.

She inhaled sharply and held her breath when Will raised his hands and gently gripped hers. She couldn’t look up at him.

“Hunith…” he whispered, followed by a short coughing fit. She pulled her hands from his and released the knot. When she had the strings tied into a proper bow, she stepped back. Will’s hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. He loomed over her in the small hut. When had his shoulders taken on the cast of such a large man? His hands, too, were no longer the same hands that brought her flowers after she’d had to scold him. They were rough, and calloused, and confident.

She was afraid to raise her eyes. She was afraid of him seeing her thoughts, and she was equally afraid of seeing those thoughts reflected back at her.

Oh god! What if he felt the same? She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the days before she’d looked at Will in the light of the fire.

Shaking herself, she pulled her wrist from his grip and opened the door of the cottage.

“Let’s go,” she said.

*

They settled into a routine. Will slept a lot and tired easily, but at least once a day they took a walk together. They cooked meals with Will sitting at the table chopping ingredients and Hunith bustling about stirring and stoking the fire.

Letters arrived often from Camelot and they would read them together by the light of the hearth, before taking up quill and ink and writing back. Their evenings often ended with Hunith reading from one of the books Will liked.

The weather turned cold and Hunith was glad for Will’s company when the wolves howled. She’d never been one to fear the dark, but she couldn’t deny the warmth of having another body nearby. Even if they almost never touched.

Hunith had begun avoiding Will, as much as she could in the small cottage. She wouldn’t allow herself to look at him too long, or to touch him accidentally. She saw him watching her, though, and he didn’t seem to have the same compulsion to look away as she did.

It seemed the less he talked, the more he watched.

*

“It’ll snow tonight,” Hunith said absently. She and Will were walking down the lane to visit the young Miss Simmons, whose elderly grandfather had recently passed away. Will was carrying the loaf of bread Hunith had baked. He nodded to her and shivered exaggeratedly.

“I know. Do you have any spare blankets we can pick up?” she asked. The cottage would be cold soon, and her meagre supply of bedding was now split between the two of them. He nodded in answer.

“Good. We’ll stop on our way home.” Hunith stopped suddenly. Her eyes darted around before her gaze settled on Will.

“Maybe you should move back to your own house.”

A strong hand gripped her wrist. _Why?_

“Will, you’re getting better. You don’t need me as much anymore.”

_I need you._

“Will, people are talking. They’re saying things.”

_Like what?_ His brows drew in. Hunith shook her head. She should have waited until they were back home.

“It doesn’t matter. But I wanted you to know.”

_I don’t care what those arseholes are saying._

“Will…”

His hand drifted up her arm until it came to rest at her elbow. He pulled her closer. She tried to stand her ground but felt herself leaning towards him. He was so warm, and alive, and she wanted him.

“So does Merlin know he’s to expect a little brother or sister?” called a voice, forcing Hunith’s eyes to drop to the ground at the same time Will’s whipped up.

Will released her arm and took off down the lane towards the voice.

“Oh, what’s this? Is Will going to stand up for his love? Get in line, Will, she’ll take in any traveller. You’re just the most recent…”

Hunith looked up in time to see Will’s arm pull back before he punched the other man in the mouth.

“David!” came a startled voice. “I’m so sorry, Hunith. Ignore my arse of a husband.” Hunith’s neighbor, a slight woman by the name of Mae, came tearing out of her cottage and had David by the ear before Will could wind up for a second punch.

*

Will barreled his way through the front door of the cottage, followed quietly by Hunith. He punched the wall next to the curtain separating the bedroom, then tore through the curtain to sit on the bed. He stood again, punched the wall several times, then heaved out a large breath and lay down on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

Hunith let him be. She took off her cloak and hung it on the same hook she always did. She added a log to the hearth and hung the pot over the fire so she could begin making a stew for dinner. She got the water boiling and added the bones left over from the chicken they’d had the night before. Then she gathered up the bandages and a bowl of water and made her way into the bedroom.

Will sat up as soon as she passed through the curtain, now hanging limply from only one side of the doorway. Hunith gazed at his face. It held a mix of rage and sadness. She let herself feel the full weight of having someone feel these emotions for her. It was heady, and she could almost see a future where Will was hers, for real, before she had to look away. It couldn’t happen. Will needed a woman his own age. Someone who would bear him children and love him without the hurts of the past always there, on the periphery.

She sat on the ground at Will’s feet and took his hand. The cloth was soon stained red from the blood gently being washed away. She dropped the cloth into the bowl of water with a soft plop and wrapped his knuckles in a clean bandage. She took his other hand to look for damage. There were some scrapes, and she used a fresh cloth to wipe the dirt from them.

Soon, there wasn’t much else to clean, but she couldn’t bear to stop. She knew it wasn’t right. She held his hand and continued to drag the cloth over his skin. She could no longer deny her feelings. She loved this man in front of her. He had filled her cottage with life again. He was a loud, intense presence that lit everything she did. Having his eyes follow her while she did chores, feeling his anger at how she’d been treated, hearing his sweet whispered _thank you’s_ ; he’d smashed his way into her home and filled it with love.

But she couldn’t have him, so she would bandage him up, and care for him until he was healthy again, and then send him out to find a young woman to make him happy. Right now, though… right now belonged to her. She might not ever hold his hand again, so she made the most of it.

She had dropped the cloth at some point, and now her fingers gently caressed where the cloth had been. His skin was soft where it wasn’t damaged. She flipped his hand over and traced the callouses on his palm. The roughness was a contrast to the soft, and she smiled briefly at how apt that description was for Will himself. He was all headstrong passion followed by quiet introspection. She wondered which of those sides of himself he would take to bed and knew it would probably be both. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing it was a different world and she could push him back onto the pillows and find out for herself.

But it wasn’t a different world. She dropped his hand and stood abruptly, sloshing the water in the bowl. She turned to leave, to escape. She wanted to cry for this love that was almost hers but never could be.

She was stopped, though, first by a tug on her elbow, then by Will’s strong arms wrapping themselves around her waist. The bowl fell from her hands, water streaming over her bare toes.

“I… sor…” he whispered into her ear. It wasn’t followed by a coughing fit, but she could feel the vibration from his body as he tried to sound the words. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest. “Sorry,” he said again, this time stronger. She wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for; was it what David had said, or Will’s reaction to it, or was it this horrible, lovely, tragic thing that was happening between them? Did it matter?

“Will,” she whispered back, before pushing away and stepping through the half-curtain. There was silence in the cottage as she returned to the pot on the hearth. She moved around the kitchen quietly, putting things away, cleaning, busying her hands.

Her head came up at the sound of the front door closing.

She stumbled to the hearth and fell into the chair. The flames licked at the bottom of the pot, mesmerising her. She was the pot. She was being devoured by flames that were going to be the end of her, and there was nobody there to take her from the heat. She closed her eyes.

*

Hunith opened her eyes slowly. She must have fallen asleep. The side of her face that was closest to the fire was hot. A banket had been placed over her, tucked in around her shoulders.

She looked up. Will was sitting in a chair opposite her. He was watching her, a smile on his face. In his hands was a chunk of wood and a knife, and small shavings covered his lap and the floor around his feet.

“You’re back,” she said. His brows knit together in confusion and he tilted his head. “I thought you’d gone home for good.”

_No._ He pointed at the chair under him and raised the block of wood in his hands.

“You went home to get some things?” she asked.

Will smiled and nodded. His face grew serious and he lowered his eyes. He pointed towards the curtain he’d half pulled down earlier. It was fixed.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Will shrugged. Hunith stood and dished out stew from the pot that Will had removed from the fire. They sat in silence and ate.

Hunith cleared her throat. “Will,” she began.

He looked up from the stew, face open. She cringed.

“I think you’re strong enough to move home.”

“No,” he whispered forcefully.

“You’re strong enough to carry a heavy chair down the lane. Your wound is healed enough that I can come by and check on it once a day. You should go home, before…”

“What?”

She stood. She didn’t want to look at him. His emotions played out on his face too easily. She didn’t want to see a confirmation of his love, or his pity at her unrequited feelings. Whichever it was.

“Will, it’s not right. This can’t continue.”

A crash had her spinning around. He had stood so abruptly his chair had knocked back onto the floor. He stalked towards her, tossing his bowl of stew onto the table where it slid and wobbled before stilling. She backed up until she hit the work counter. His face looked pained, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, mouth pulled into a straight line. He stopped in front of her, looming in that way he did, and she raised her chin to look up at him.

His eyes darted around her face. Sadness replaced the pain in his expression, and he lifted a hand to Hunith’s cheek.

“I… love… “

“No, you don’t!” she cried, interrupting his slow declaration. She turned her head to the side, choking on the tears in her throat.

“I… love… you.” Wil whispered, rubbing a thumb over her cheekbone.

“I’m too old for you Will,” she said sadly, pushing him away. She walked into the bedroom and pulled the curtain closed behind her. She lay down on the pallet and pulled the blankets around her, praying that Will wouldn’t follow her.

She fell asleep to the sound of him cleaning up dinner.

*

The next few weeks went by in an awkward back and forth of wanting and denying. Hunith did everything she could to get Will’s strength up. His still living with her was now a barely defensible pretense, and she needed his recovery and removal from her home before she gave in to the temptation to love and let herself be loved. The cold of winter would hit them soon and the sleeping arrangements would need to change. She didn’t have enough blankets for each of them separately, and there was only so much room in front of the hearth. She knew they were heading towards an inevitable night when the cold would force them to share a bed, and she knew the flimsy walls she had erected around her heart wouldn’t survive lying next to him like that.

Will must be thinking the same. He had returned to his house for the chair and woodworking supplies, but not extra blankets.

Will didn’t seem to have the same hesitation Hunith did, however. Ever since his declaration of love, he hadn’t held himself back from staring at her. She felt his eyes on her as she cooked and cleaned. He held the water bucket for her when they went to the well. He asked her to read every night in front of the fire and smiled and let his eyes slide shut as she spoke quietly.

He had moments of anger, though, too. His throat was slow to heal and his frustration often got the better of him. She had begun making him read short passages from the books to regain his speech. It was difficult, and painful. His face would harden, lips in a tight line, and he would slam his fist into the table.

“Try again, Will. I know you can do it.”

_I can’t!_ His lips formed the words, but he didn’t bother even trying to whisper.

“Yes, you can.”

He slammed the book shut and shoved it across the table. Hunith opened the book to the page they had been on and slid it back in front of him.

“One more sentence, then you can go outside and throw some rocks.”

He snorted and their gazes met. He rolled his eyes but pulled the book towards himself.

“Collect… the… leaves… of… the…” he paused, coughed once, then continued. “Hollythorn… plant… in… late… spr.. spring.” He looked up at Hunith, eyes bright. He closed the book.

“Good. I knew you could do it. That’s enough for today, we can practice more tomorrow.”

Will stood abruptly, slamming his fist on the book. He grabbed his cloak from the hook and threw open the door, leaving behind a burst of cold air when he pulled it shut behind him.

*

Hunith shivered on her pallet. The cold had finally come. She had been dreading this day as much as she had been pathetically waiting for it. Because she had decided that she would get into the bed with Will. She would let herself feel his body heat. She would take the exquisite torture of lying next to him and not allow anything to happen. Because she loved him so much, and she wanted him so badly it scared her.

But nothing would happen. She would lie awake, feel his breathing and share his body heat, and let him do the same with her, and get up in the morning tired but able to go about her day, knowing she hadn’t chained him to a life with her.

She desperately wanted to give in and be with him. But she was old enough to be his mother. Will’s own mum had died soon after his father was lost in battle. He had been only 14. He’d been smart, though, and knew enough of his father’s woodworking business to continue making furniture and various tools that he could sell to the villagers or passersby. She’d scolded him when he’d gotten into trouble with Merlin, and fed him on days he worked too hard, but he’d made a life for himself, by himself. Now he deserved to be with someone young and lovely, someone simple who didn’t have the worries and the past she did. He didn’t deserve to walk through town with a woman to be catcalled by men like David.

So she lay there, curled into a ball, trying to conserve every bit of heat she could. When she heard her name whispered across the room, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hunith…”

“Go to sleep,” she whispered back.

“Hunith… it’s cold… come… here…”

She rolled over to look at him. In the flickering light of the fire, she could see he had shifted back towards the wall so there was space on the cot, and he held the blankets up in invitation.

She moved embarrassingly fast. She left her blankets and pillow on the pallet, knowing she would be warm enough with Will’s body pressed against hers. She sat on the cot and slid under the covers, resting her head on the single pillow, her back to Will’s chest. She inhaled deeply of the bedding, taking in Will’s scent of soap and the woods and the earth.

He pressed against her from head to toe but didn’t wrap an arm around her. Instead, his palm came to rest on her hip. She felt the heat of it through her nightshirt, where he gripped her hip bone gently. His breath warmed the back of her neck.

Hunith closed her eyes. She began cataloging every sensation, so she could relive this moment later, when Will was gone and all she had was this cold bed. His chest, hardened from living a rural life, expanded with each breath. Each inhale brought him closer to her, each exhale taking him away for a brief respite before it all began again. The chill in her bones was quickly replaced with heat flushing her skin. He filled the space at her back with a delicious _rightness_ that she didn’t know how she would live without when he left.

Not for the first time, she thought of how loud his presence was. Despite the fact that he couldn’t talk, everything about him was big, and powerful, and deafening. Her whole life had changed since he’d moved in. He had become a part of everything. He was in her heart as well as her home, making a roaring entrance and bringing a light that she hadn’t even known was missing.

A tremor shimmered through her body. She felt the hand on her hip twitch and grip tighter. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t ready to change the equilibrium of their embrace. She couldn’t go forward, but she didn’t want to go back.

She felt a rumbling from Will’s chest that she knew would have been a groan had there been any sound to it. His hand loosened its grip and his fingers trailed lightly down her leg. If she could, she would have been moving against him by now, sighing and encouraging his gentle touch. As it was, she was still frozen. Her nightshirt, however, was rucked up higher than she’d known, and his palm burned where it found her naked thigh. The heat from his fingertips was like a branding iron trailing over her skin, and once the only barrier between them was gone, she had no hope of holding out any longer. He caressed upwards now, and he fit his hand under her rough shirt. She leaned almost imperceptibly into him. The movements became rougher, fingers inching over skin until they were pressed to her ribs. He paused for a moment, giving her a change to stop him. When his palm cupped her small breast, her own hand followed until she could wrap her fingers over his wide hand. Not to stop him. But to feel for herself what he felt. To see what he was thinking. To confirm that it was actually happening. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed, wanting rough proof.

“Hunith…”

She could no longer help herself. Hearing her name whispered in his deep, raspy voice right at her ear was too much. She arched her back, pushing her arse against his lap. His hard length pushed back. He pulled her to him, letting out a sound that was mostly sigh, but may have been a moan if it had been in his old voice. He rested his open mouth at the top of her spine and kissed her skin.

“Will,” she gasped. “Will, you need to stop. You deserve someone younger, someone better.”

“I love… you…” he whispered, kissing up the side of her neck and under her jaw with a pace that spoke of fear that she would stop him soon and he needed his own catalogue of memories. She tilted her head towards him to give him more access.

“I’m too old,” she said, one last attempt to make him see the truth.

He pulled her tighter.

“I… love… you…” he breathed into the space behind her ear.

She shuddered.

“Tell… me… you… don’t… love… me,” he paused his scratchy whisper to catch his breath. “And… I’ll stop.”

She felt his warmth and pictured his eyes. Saw the love for her that shone from his face everyday. He loved her, and she loved him.

Maybe she _could_ have this.

She rolled onto her back and faced him. He rose onto his elbow and kissed her just as she pictured he would. He touched his lips to hers gently, then pressed his forehead against hers hard enough to almost hurt. His fingers trailed over her face reverently before they pushed into her hair, roughly drawing her mouth close. He was an example of opposites. Gentle, then rough. Giving, then taking. She shuddered against him, suddenly needing more. If they were going to do this, she would give him everything, and she would take just as much.

She rolled on top of him, forcing him onto his back. Her knees straddled his hips. She felt his erection, straining at his breeches. The fact that it was for her filled her with a rush of desire so strong she nearly choked. She looked at him. He lay under her, hands on her hips, face turned up and eyes watching hers.

The room was almost completely dark, but the pale light from the hearth flickered across their skin. The yellow and orange shadows on Will’s face took her back to the first night she cared for him. His voice may not have returned fully, but his body was once again health and vitality incarnate. She ran her hand over his chest, taking in the hard muscles and dusting of chest hair. Her hips rolled involuntarily, rubbing herself along Will’s hardness. It had been a long time since she’d been in a position like this, but she knew, instinctually, that she needed him inside her soon.

She grabbed at the edges of her nightshirt like a fumbling virgin and lifted the fabric awkwardly over her head, exposing her naked body to the cold air and Will’s warm hands. She was suddenly going too fast but couldn’t help it. Her fingers found the strings on Will’s breeches and she had the knot undone before she realized he hadn’t moved in some time. She lifted her eyes to his.

Will’s head was thrown back against the pillow. His eyes were half closed, and he was staring at her. His mouth moved around words she couldn’t make out, but she thought whatever he was saying, she would take into her heart. She leaned down to kiss him. His hands lifted to either side of her face and he stroked her skin gently. As she pulled away, she heard him start up his litany of confession again.

“Hunith… love… you… love… you…”

She leaned back and let him look at her. He ran his hands over her abdomen and breasts. She had never thought of her body as something a man would take particular pleasure in, except once before, many years ago. But the way Will looked at her, and touched her, and the way his erection jumped, despite her wrinkles, and imperfect skin, and scars showing a life of hard farm living, forced her to re-evaluate herself.

Through Will’s eyes, she was beautiful.

She lifted herself onto her knees and took Will’s prick in hand. It was heavy and hot, and harder than she imagined. He breathed out and bucked into her hand. She lowered herself until the tip was barely inside her, and the sensation of the first touch of his heat to hers almost had her crying out. She gasped as his hips moved slightly. She matched his movement, and soon he was pressing up into her as she lowered herself to him. Neither of them moved when their hips met, instead she leaned back down for another kiss full of shared breath and tongues and words said but not heard.

She straightened again and watched his expressions as she began rolling her hips. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. She leaned forward and planted her palms onto his chest. Her pace quickened. Faster and faster she moved, chasing an orgasm she knew was close. Will’s hands pressed into her skin, scratching up her back and shoulders. She relished the heat they left on her and despaired at each cold spot where his hands had been but were no more. She wanted his touch everywhere, all at once. She let out an uncontrollable sound, a high-pitched exhale, and Will seemed to lose control as soon as it slipped from her mouth.

He reared up until he was sitting and latched a mouth over one of her breasts. His hands grasped at the curve of her arse, rough enough to leave bruises. She felt a tremor build in her lower back and around to her thighs and she arched her back into it on instinct. She looked down at where Will sucked, and watched as he looked up into her eyes, peeled back his lips, and scraped his teeth over her nipple.

The orgasm took over her whole body and she curled into his chest, forcing him back to the bed. She rocked her hips and gasped into his ear, unable to do anything else. When she stilled, Will’s hands were rubbing up and down her back, and his hips were still moving slowly, pumping in and out of her. She couldn’t lift herself, but she rocked down onto him enough to get him moving again, and soon his grip on her waist was all that kept her in place.

He planted his feet on the bed and thrust up into her, hard and unforgiving. This was the side of Will she knew best, the hot-headed passionate man who jumped into whatever life threw at him feet first. That fact, and his lovely earthy scent, and his hard shoulders under her hands, were what pushed her over the edge into a second orgasm. It was less intense than the first one, but it radiated throughout her whole body. She stretched her neck and back and bit at Will’s ear as it washed through her. She felt herself clamp around his hardness, and in return his thrusts became less of an even slide, and more of a hard crashing of his hips against hers as he came deep inside her.

She slumped against his chest as his movements slowed and then stilled. His fingertips traced over her back, gently running up and down her spine. When she shivered, he pulled the blankets over them both. She stayed as still as she could, knowing that any small shift in position would cause him to slip out of her, and she wanted to live in this moment a little longer.

“Say… you… love… me…” Will whispered.

“I love you.”

His strong arms wrapped tightly around her. She let herself be held and revelled in it.

“Marry… me…”

“I’m probably too old to give you children, Will. You deserve to be a father,” she said, knowing the half-hearted attempt wouldn’t make a difference. They would do whatever they could to be together now.

“I don’t want… anything other… than you,” he said, voice rough but full. More than a whisper. “And you’re… allowed happiness.”

Her throat closed at the vehemence of his words. She knew she could never part from him again. He made her life _more_ than it ever had been before. She swallowed the fear that threatened to overwhelm her and whispered her answer into the pale skin under her mouth.


End file.
